


Darkfeathers

by Dark and Stormy (betagyre)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avvar, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Avvar, Avvar Anders (Dragon Age), Avvar Cullen Rutherford, Avvar Culture and Customs, Avvar Hawke (Dragon Age), Courting Rituals, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, F/M, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Loneliness, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28819230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betagyre/pseuds/Dark%20and%20Stormy
Summary: Anders has become Augur of Darkfeather Hold, the only mage in the small settlement. His mentor is gone, his mother has been gone for several years, his lowlander father did not want him, and he successfully released his Just Spirit from possessing him. In a hold of warriors, he is apart from everyone else.  He'schosenloneliness, he supposes, not trying to find a bonded partner, contenting himself with tumbles—except for that one who tormented him and then pushed him away.Oh... and she’s also the very person that he has been told he has to bring back to the hold. She’s a mage huntress and can fight well, a challenge in its own right, but he also doesn’t know how she feels about him after their aborted tryst.  And while he’ll never admit it, Anders constantly measures himself against Thane Cullen, especially when the Thane brings back a mage spouse himself. "The simple life of the mountains"? Not bloody likely.
Relationships: Anders & Cullen Rutherford, Anders/Female Hawke, Background Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, so. This is what I did rather than working on my novel.
> 
> I don't even know what to say. Enjoy, I guess!
> 
> Oh -- here's a drawing I made (and [link on deviantArt](https://www.deviantart.com/betagyre/art/Avvar-Anders-865059921)):

Anders gazed at the sky, blinking away tears. _He is with the_ _Lady of the Skies now,_ he thought, trying to still his grief as the birds carried the Augur’s mortal remains away. _Mother is there too._

But the fact remained that they were not _here._ Anders was, for the first time in his life, truly alone—alone and with an intimidating responsibility. He had known for many years that this would be his responsibility someday, but until now, it had been a date to imagine in the distant future.

His mother had been gone for three years. She had returned to her people, the southern Avvar of the Frostback Mountains, ten years ago after fleeing her lowlander husband with then-twelve-year-old Anders. Anders supposed that he was not “alone” in the sense that his father was most probably alive somewhere, but the man might as well be dead. The entire reason his mother had left was that he had sworn that he would call in the lowlander templars to take Anders away after he accidentally started a fire with his magic. No, his father was out of his life for good now.

But Mother.... Anders sighed. She should have lived longer, and he believed she would have if they had not had to spend a full year on the run before they found a hold that would accept them. She had left the hold she was born to when she eloped with the Anderfel man, Anders’ father, but she had not returned to that same hold. They would not take her back. Her flight had been to avoid a forced marriage to a warrior about whom she cared nothing, but it was supposed to have been a key alliance to bind her hold with that man’s after a period of conflict between the two. Her desertion had destroyed the fragile peace, and she was not welcome anymore.

Finally, a year after Anders last saw his father, they were accepted into Darkfeather Hold, small and struggling, but only because Anders was a mage and there was no other mage in Darkfeather except the aging Augur. He had lost his last apprentice to a demon, and the hold had badly needed more magic among its people, an investment in the future.

Anders and his mother had a home again—but the cold, the sacrifices of that winter, left a permanent impression on her, probably taking years off her life. She was frail for the six years of life left to her... and then she was gone.

The old Augur of Darkfeather Hold, Anders’ teacher, had not replaced her—no one could—but the two had had a good and respectful relationship. He had taught Anders how to control his powers, to tame the magic within him. He had shown Anders the ways of Spirit and cultivated his innate gift for healing—though it was too late to do much for his mother except give her comfort. He had taught Anders how to call up lightning, the power of the storm and the sky, seeing that Anders had a gift for that too. He had been pleased when Anders made a companion of a particular spirit, the Just Spirit as it wanted to be called, and had walked Anders through the ritual of binding with this spirit and then freeing it to return to its home. But the bond of trust and friendship that the spirit had formed with Anders would endure, the old Augur had said, and the Just Spirit would most likely be Anders’ closest and principal familiar when the day arrived that _he_ became the Augur of Darkfeather Hold.

That day was today— _and I_ _am alone now with this task_ _,_ he thought bitterly as he gazed at the sky. _You were old, and you were ready to go to the Lady, but I am all alone now. Mother is gone, you are gone, the Just Spirit is not a part of me any longer...._ _I knew I had to release him_ _back to his home_ _, that I would be exiled if I refused, but I miss his constant presence. I feel alone._

He knew that others would consider this ridiculous and even offensive. He had his hold. His mother might have always been considered something of an interloper at Darkfeather—a deserter from their people who had no connection of blood or marriage to this hold, but was tolerated because she had given birth to a mage and the hold needed mages. _She_ might not ever have been completely “one of them”—but he was the Augur’s apprentice and now the Augur himself. He was a man of status in Darkfeather; he did not have to have kinship to belong. He was not alone, they would say. He had his people, so they would say. He had his Thane.

Anders finally felt the bite of cold against his cheeks at the thought of Thane Cullen. A scowl filled his face. He was also quite a young man... also green for such a lofty position... also recently chosen. They “should” get along, so most people would say, since they ostensibly had so much in common. But Cullen seemed quite confident in his new position of leadership. More to the point, he belonged in heart as well as in fact. How many times had Anders heard the cheerful sounds of Cullen and his warriors raising toasts and talking animatedly about their exploits in the last hunt, friends and comrades all? He had had to stay in the Augur’s hut, brooding over veilfire to commune with the Just Spirit and others, as the bent, dying old man observed.

And even if he had been able to join those warriors, what would he have had to contribute? He could do magic, and that was fearsome in its own right. He did not doubt that he could take the warriors one-on-one in the Trials. But being a mage, being an Augur’s apprentice—and now the Augur himself—meant that he was apart from the warriors in some undefinable sense.

 _I am the only mage in Darkfeather Hold. That, fundamentally, is why I feel alone—because in that way, I_ am _alone. I am alone in the hold. I am the one they will consult for messages from Spirit. They, themselves, will see me as something different, something apart. Perhaps I’ll be closer to Spirit than to humans. Perhaps I will always be alone now... until I too am old and they have to find_ me _an apprentice to replace me._

He had had trysts occasionally, of course, especially when Darkfeather’s people visited neighboring holds to celebrate the passage of the seasons or observe some special event. There were women—and men—whose tastes tended towards a lean, elegant mage rather than a big burly warrior. But those trysts never lasted; he didn’t mean them to, and he only sought them when Darkfeather did visit another hold, not wanting to risk causing internal conflict in his own.

_Perhaps that too is all the human companionship I will have._

He turned aside and wiped his eyes as he descended, at last, from the peak.

* * *

“Augur.”

Anders turned around sharply. He had been about to enter... well, he supposed it was now _his_ hut... when he heard the Thane’s voice. He nodded curtly at the sight of Cullen, gripping his staff.

The young warrior approached Anders hesitantly before clapping a hand on his shoulder and giving him a pat and a sympathetic look. “A difficult day for you,” Cullen said, glancing at the peak from which Anders had just descended. “You _are_ ready, though. Even if you don’t think you are.”

Anders scowled. “That wasn’t the problem.”

Cullen frowned questioningly. “What is the problem, then? Grief?”

He shook his head. “I do grieve, but....” He changed his mind. “It does not matter. I have a duty now.” He pulled away from the Thane without a second look and entered the hut, closing the rough-hewed door behind him.

* * *

That evening, as the stars began to twinkle, Anders was preparing to cast veilfire and commune with Spirit. He supposed his mood was probably not ideal for that, embittered and hollow as he still felt, but he hoped that it might improve from the companionship. He had mustered his mana and almost begun the spell when a loud knock on his door interrupted his concentration.

“Thane has called you to the great table,” said the visitor, a young scout. “You must be present.”

Anders suppressed a scowl. What was the point of this? Everyone in the hold knew that he was now the Augur. They had all seen the sky burial. If Cullen thought that making a scene of Anders was the answer to his problems, he was gravely mistaken about the root of them. Numbers alone weren’t the answer; one could be lonely in a crowd, and that was often the worst loneliness of all.

But he _was_ the Thane, and Anders knew there was no defying a direct order. He picked up his staff, wrapped his heavy fur-lined and feather-topped coat around himself, and headed outside.

The hold had a pavilion of sorts, a shelter for a large table and benches that they used for celebratory occasions. It had a roof but no walls, just four large heavy pillars to support the corners. Cullen had had the table spread with a feast of hearty food. The hold animal, Arnlaug, a very large and wizened eagle with one of its eyes blind, was caged in a corner near the rafters, gazing down upon the table as it feasted on deer innards.

There was Cullen, wearing that red fur thing around his shoulders that he so liked, a benign smile on his scarred face. There were the usual warriors who followed him. And... there were... guests? But who? And why? Anders tried to place them... he was sure he had seen them before, but could not recall which hold they belonged to....

“Augur,” Cullen said, gesturing at an empty space on the bench to his side, “take a seat. We are honored with the friendship and company of Thane Halvardr Ar Trevelyan and Augur Hawke of Golden Horse Hold.”

Anders sat down and studied the guests, a pair of middle-aged men. The guest thane was a stern, if handsome, heavily muscled warrior with light bronze skin, salt-and-pepper hair, and a fierce expression. The augur appeared about the same age, his red hair dappled with gray, and there was sternness in his visage too, but there were also laugh lines. It was hard to see any in the austere face of the thane. He considered his memories. He was _certain_ that he had seen this red-haired augur before....

A horn of ale was placed in front of him, and he took a draft at once, relishing the taste. The guest thane began to speak.

“It is an honor to be in your midst tonight at this important time,” he said, gazing at Cullen with an expression of sternness that only deepened as he stared into Cullen’s brown eyes.

Anders thought he noticed Cullen flinch under this man’s gaze and privately took a certain wicked glee in it.

“Your new Augur,” Thane Halvardr said, suddenly turning that menacing expression on Anders, to his unwelcome surprise, “is as young as you.”

“I was young when I came into the duty,” Augur Hawke spoke up suddenly, giving Anders a look of sympathy. “We do what the gods will for us.”

The thane seemed brought up short for a brief moment. “Of course,” he said. “I do not mean to cast doubt on Augur Anders’ abilities. If I thought that you”—he gave Anders a piercing look—“or your thane were incapable, I would not have come tonight.”

Anders tried to keep a glower off his face, but it was hard. What right did this man, thane or not, have to come as a guest and then act as if _they_ had to earn _his_ approval? _It’s our hold,_ he thought mutinously. _We don’t have to prove a thing to you on our own grounds._

Augur Hawke gave him a private, secret look of sympathy and understanding—which vanished in a moment, but Anders was certain he had not imagined it. _Who is this man?_ he thought. _How have I seen him before?_ He tried desperately to remember the last occasion that Golden Horse Hold and Darkfeather Hold had feasted together.

“Nine years ago your hold, small as it is, was bereft of any mages save for your late Augur,” the thane continued. He fixed Anders with that _look_ again. _“Your_ mother, of course, brought you here, thereby providing for the time when the Augur would pass to the Lady. But now....”

“Now we are in the same position that we were in nine years ago,” Cullen finished, his measured tones a relief after the domineering ones of Thane Halvardr Ar Trevelyan. “One mage. And the families who are part of Darkfeather have not had a mage born in a very long time. Magic in our blood runs thin. Unless the gods choose to grant us an unexpected blessing, we must bring magic back from outside the hold.”

Anders began to comprehend why the guests were here. Cullen was unmarried, and, although women seemed to admire him even more than they did Anders himself, he had not chosen anyone for a bride. The Thane of Golden Horse Hold was probably offering him the choice of someone from his own hold, and presumably a mage, given how this discussion was going.

Anders was not sure what he thought about that. If the Thane did marry a mage and had a child who turned out to be a mage, that child would probably become Anders’ apprentice—and the prospect of teaching the son or daughter of the Thane made him uncomfortable.

“Meanwhile,” Augur Hawke said, breaking Anders’ concentration, _“we_ have a surplus of magical power. I myself have two daughters with the gift, and of course, the Thane’s own kin....”

With that, suddenly Anders’ memories clicked into place. _Summerday,_ he thought. _That was when._ Memories of a very pretty red-haired mage filled his mind—and the more he remembered, rapidly and in a flood of awareness, the more he suddenly wanted to shrink away.

_She threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling on blond locks in a passionate desperation that surprised him, but equally thrilled and aroused him. He glanced quickly around to be sure that they were alone before lifting her up and pushing her against the wall, grinding against her aggressively, making her cry out in desire. She tightened her grip on his hair, pulling him close to give him a kiss, which he eagerly joined._

_He knew how this would end, of course, how it always ended—but oh, was he going to enjoy it this time. So many times his partners for the night would be almost listless, going through the motions, willingly and happily but without any real passion. They sought pleasure, just as he did, but that was all that there was to it—a process that they knew worked._

_She, on the other hand—she was pouring her soul into this. She certainly felt passion—or incredible lust, at least. They had just met today, and admittedly had had a long conversation in which they’d both become lost, but she didn’t know him well. However, she certainly wanted him._

_They continued to kiss, to grope and feel each other through their clothes, until they were both breathing heavily and Anders felt the urgent need to get out of his leather trousers. He had one hand on the back of her head to hold her in place as he kissed and sucked on the sensitive area where her jawline met her neck, and the other hand roving around her waist, finally untying the knot of her rope belt and slipping inside her leathers...._

_Gods above, she was ready for him. He let his hand trail down her abdomen, toward her heat, shocked but not entirely surprised at just how wet she was and how far her arousal had spread—he kept his fingers there, eliciting gasps and cries from her as he began to work her, feeling her grip on his locks tighten with each movement—_

_She gasped and shuddered, reaching her climax earlier than he had expected, covering his hand in a hot flood with her release. He would have to get her ready again, but at least, this soon after such a quake, she would not have much trouble taking him if she were inexperienced—_

_Her grip on his hair suddenly slackened. In the next moment, the palms that had been around his head were suddenly on his chest, and she was pushing him away._

_She stared fiercely at him, the expression of utter satisfaction that he had just seen transforming into one of ferocity._

_“That isn’t all,” he protested, feeling the loss of her heat and touch and wanting to just take her, take her, but knowing that he must not._

_“Yes, it is. You’ve had all that you’re going to get.” She tied her belt in place again and gave him a glare as she stepped away and headed for the door._

_“Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?”_

_She paused and turned around, her expression softening. “No. You were wonderful. You didn’t hurt me. And... I’m not going to_ let _you hurt me.” Her gaze turned sad, regretful, yet still determined and resigned, as she left him alone in the hut._

_He had wondered what had gone wrong. Had someone broken her heart before? Was she afraid of pregnancy? Or... had she heard about how he pursued brief trysts and just did not want to become another notch on his staff? But she had been so eager for the things that they had done. She had thoroughly enjoyed it, and the passion that he had seen in her was not imagined._

_He wondered if she had had feelings for him, or a fancy, at least, since she had thought that he would hurt her—her heart, he supposed—by getting into her bed and then leaving her. He had only met her that day, but perhaps she had watched him for longer than that._

_He had not seen her since then._

Anders was jerked back to the present moment suddenly by the sound of Thane Halvardr’s domineering voice.

“Yes, Cullen, my Eva is very fond of you,” he said. He fixed Cullen with a piercing look. “She has told me.” The stern expression on his face suddenly changed slightly, as his lips curled upward in a smirk. “If you choose her, I wish you the gods’ blessing in taking her. She is a strong mage and my wife and I are both warriors.” The smirk became almost menacing.

But Cullen met the smirk with one of his own. “I do not fear you, Halvardr.”

The older man seemed pleased. “Good. I would walk out of here at once if you did. You would be unworthy of my daughter. But you _should_ know that I will not make it easy for you.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

The two thanes regarded each other pointedly before Augur Hawke spoke up, breaking the silence. He turned his gaze on Anders. “If that is settled,” he said.

“I should say it is,” Thane Halvardr said.

Cullen spoke again, continuing where he had left off before Hawke had mentioned his daughters, Anders had had his flashback, and they had—apparently—made plans for Cullen to try to take the other thane’s daughter. “When I have brought Eva, Thane Halvardr’s eldest, back—”

“If,” the other thane said, unable to resist.

 _“When,”_ Cullen emphasized, “Darkfeather Hold will have another mage, and I hope that we may have a mage child or two. But the gods do not always grant it when only one parent has the gift of magic.”

“It’s very true,” said Augur Hawke. “My son is a warrior.”

“So,” Cullen continued, fixing his gaze upon Anders, “my friends and I think that you, Augur, should also... look to the future. And that is why Augur Hawke is here.”

Anders felt overwhelmed as his quick mind took in the implications. He knew what Hawke was going to say, and the memories of that beautiful, _maddening_ woman who had brought him close to the fire and then blasted him with a coating of ice returned with full force.

“I have two daughters with the gift of magic,” Hawke began, gazing at Anders. “My youngest is too young. Fifteen. My eldest, however—Cait—was quite interested in the proposition when I told her about it,” he said, staring fiercely into Anders’ honey eyes. “She says that she knows you.”

 _Cait, yes, that was her name. Cait Hawkesdotten._ He remembered it all now. “We’ve met,” he managed.

Augur Hawke gazed back at him, folding his arms across his chest. “So I gathered.”

Cullen was glaring at Anders suddenly as if he wanted to take a sword to him, and Anders realized the information that he “knew” Hawke’s daughter was news to him—and that Cullen had clearly drawn the wrong conclusion about it. “I have not done anything against her,” he said at once to Cullen. “We _have_ met. I haven’t....” He broke off. How could he possibly explain this to Cullen with the lady’s father and her thane sitting right there?

Cullen glowered back at him. “You haven’t been dishonorable to her?”

“I don’t think I have. I didn’t... hurt her. Or if I did, it wasn’t my intent. But she _said_ I didn’t.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Anders wanted to groan and take them back. Everything he said was making this worse.

Cullen looked furious. “We’ll talk later. Let’s just say that if this is what I think it is, you are definitely going to bring that woman back or take the consequences of failure.”

The eagle of Darkfeather Hold met Anders’ gaze with its one good eye. It picked up a piece of shredded viscera with its razor-sharp beak and dropped it through the bars of its cage, sending it to the floor in a pile of bloody tissue.

* * *

_“What did you do?”_ Cullen snarled, grabbing Anders by the shoulders. “Did you go as a guest to their hold on Summerday and seduce the Augur’s firstborn daughter? Is _that_ what you did—and she was just too nice to tell you that it _did_ hurt her?”

Offended, and not inclined to take this even from the Thane, Anders jerked free and glared back. “I didn’t do it,” he spat.

“Didn’t do what? I know very well that you don’t keep to your own bed when we visit with other holds.”

“Well, I didn’t share _hers._ I _wanted_ to, I assure you of that,” he said cockily, “but I didn’t.”

“Then why in the name of Korth not? You’ve never denied yourself that when you wanted it before. Did she refuse you?”

“She apparently told her father that she was ‘interested in the proposition’ of being taken here,” he replied evasively. “Does that sound like she doesn’t want me?”

Cullen peered back at him, not deceived by this evasion. “I’m not going to allow you to take a woman against her will... and if you do bring her here and try to force her, I’ll feed you to the bogfishers myself,” he warned. “If she’s told you no before, you had better confess to me right now so that I can tell Halvardr and Hawke and make a change of plan.”

“I would _never_ force her!” Anders exploded. A burst of magic escaped from his right hand involuntarily, he was so angry at the implication. “I would never force anyone! My mother ran away from her hold because _she_ was going to be forced if she stayed!”

Cullen wavered. “Anders....”

“We... got close... and then she told me no,” he spat. “She told me no because I think she thought that I would be finished with her in the morning, and that idea bothered and upset her.” He glared at his Thane. “I think she had feelings for me and that is why it upset her to think of my leaving her. What we did do, I didn’t force her.”

Cullen considered this, softening. “How well do you know her?”

“We met that same day and talked.” He brought up the rest of the memories. They had had a nice conversation, in fact—a long one, which had gone on for several hours, the time passing by with neither of them fully aware of it until the sun was low in the sky. “She told me about her parents, how her mother was a lowlander. It reminded me of mine... except that hers stayed together.” He smiled involuntarily. “We talked about magic, how she was a huntress and a fighting mage and I was... what I am. We compared spells. I liked her,” he realized. _It’s true,_ he thought. _I did like her. I didn’t usually... talk... that much with anyone I took to bed._

Cullen gazed thoughtfully at him for a moment before speaking again. “Bring her to the hold.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which women plot how to subvert a patriarchal custom, one second-guesses herself, and there is finally some honesty about "what they did last summer."

“You think he is coming tonight?” Cait Hawkesdotten said to her friend.

Eva nodded. “My father set up traps around our home. It’s embarrassing,” she said, wincing. “He thinks they are subtle, but anyone could see them. Cullen will laugh.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” Cait suggested. “Your father must do something out of custom, present some sort of challenge, even if it’s one that a child could evade. But neither he nor you _really_ wants Cullen to be caught in a trap... do you?”

“Maybe I do,” she said stubbornly. “Maybe I like him, but I don’t want to be carried back so easily like a trophy! And yet that’s how it will be. That’s the only way I get to go with him to his hold and wed him. It’s infuriating.”

Cait considered. “You could set traps of your own. Invisible wards. Make sure that they wouldn’t alert your father if Cullen tripped them, but _you_ would have the power to release _him_ when you were ready.”

“No one else will know that I did that.”

“But Cullen will know. He’ll always know that _you_ caught _him_ and then _let_ him go free.”

Eva thought about it before managing a grin and a nod. “I think you’re right. I _hate_ this custom,” she declared. “I want that big oaf. But I don’t want to begin our marriage with him believing that he ‘won’ me by taking me away from my father, as if I were my father’s property, or by ‘conquering’ my magic with his big oafish muscles.”

Cait laughed wickedly. “You don’t have to be so ashamed of wanting him that you think you have to say what a big oaf he is all the time,” she teased. Eva reddened and managed a smile. “But I do take your point. Why let him think that? As I told you, trap him with a magical ward. _Don’t_ let him ‘conquer’ your magic. Make sure he knows that you go back with him because you set him free and then _chose_ to keep what happened your little secret.” She gave Eva a smug glance. “It might even help you and him bond. He’ll never forget that you are as strong and powerful as he is.”

Eva smiled wider and gave Cait a hug. “You’re right. That is exactly what I will do before I go to bed tonight.” She fell silent for a moment before changing the subject slightly. “What about you? Have any idea when that _pretty_ augur is coming?”

Cait suppressed a scowl. She was certain that Eva had never slept with Anders, because she had carried a torch for Cullen for as long as they had known the people of Darkfeather Hold. He was not even its thane when they first met; he was just a highly talented young warrior, and Anders the old augur’s apprentice. That was three years ago at the autumnal equinox, the first time Darkfeather had visited Golden Horse in the young women’s lifetimes. Eva had set her cap at Cullen and not budged. Cait was positive that she had no past with Anders... and yet it still bothered her, brought up a green fire of jealousy inside her, to hear her friend calling Anders “pretty.”

 _What right do I have to be jealous even if she did have a past with him?_ Cait scolded herself. _I don’t have him... yet. I never fully did. I could have, for that one night at least, but I shoved him away._

She forced herself to answer her friend. “I don’t know when he is coming, but I haven’t noticed my father doing anything unusual or detected any new magic, so I doubt it is tonight. Anyway, if Cullen _does_ show up, the focus at Darkfeather will soon be on _your_ swearing of vows—to their Thane. I doubt Anders will appear until after that’s settled.”

Eva nodded. “Right, but what are you going to do for him? Or _to_ him?” she said slyly. “Are you going to catch him too?”

“He’s a mage, so I don’t know if I can,” she admitted. “He would detect a ward. But I might try something.”

“You could also let him think he caught you and then make him duel you after you were away from the house and it wouldn’t attract your father’s attention,” Eva suggested.

“I could,” Cait said somewhat listlessly. “I suppose I might do that.”

An expression of sympathy suddenly came over Eva. “Aww. It will be all right,” she said, believing that she understood the cause of her friend’s dullness. “Your moment will be soon.”

Cait’s voice was pained as she finally cracked a response. “I should let you prepare your chambers,” she managed. She gazed at the sky. “The sun is getting low.” Giving Eva a forced grin, she added, “Luck and blessings to you.”

“Same,” Eva said, rising to her feet. As she headed back toward the hold, Cait stared at her retreating form. Eva was a beautiful young woman in a way that was somewhat uncommon among the southern Avvar clans, with thick black hair trailing down her back and her father’s handsome bronze tones. He had a lot of blood from north of the Sea, and he had passed on these traits to his eldest child. Most of the northern human peoples had gone lowlander in their customs, but his father, Eva’s grandfather, had been one of the last holdouts of the old ways before finally having to migrate south to the Frostbacks.

Eva was arrestingly beautiful, and as a thane’s daughter and a powerful mage, she was considered a very desirable match by practically every hold with which Golden Horse was on friendly terms. She was lucky that she would get the man she wanted, who apparently returned the interest, and Cait wished them well. She hoped that the plan to put Cullen in his place and keep him reminded that _Eva_ had been in control worked; the young man had already assumed a powerful position early in life and needed to be kept anchored to the earth, in Cait’s opinion.

Yes, Cait decided, Eva was a very lucky person—or blessed by the gods, perhaps. Cait was not as sure about herself. _I am pretty too,_ she thought, _and more importantly, I also have strong magic. My family is important too. I suppose I’m going to get the partner I want as well... but...._

She could not complete the thought at first. She swallowed hard.

_I pushed him away. I watched him for three years, finally talked with him at last, got lost in conversation for hours, kissed him, held him, let him touch me and actually put his fingers inside me, let him bring me to fulfillment... and then pushed him away. I literally pushed him away, implied that he would have hurt me if I hadn’t, and now, I have got him—or soon will—for one reason. I got him because I told my father and my Thane that I wanted him and it was essentially commanded to him. I’ll get him... but what if that isn’t what he wants?_

That, then, was why she had been so reluctant to make any plans to physically capture Anders or duel him to make sure he knew that this was all happening only because she permitted it. _The Thane said that Thane Cullen and Augur Anders—though I suppose he hadn’t become that yet—in Darkfeather would both need mage wives to replenish their hold’s magical power, and I told my father to put me forward immediately._

The memories of that feast came back to her, the Thane stating his plan and her quick, urgent private word to her father within the very next minute. The instant thought _I must claim him right now before someone else does_ and the awareness that there were undoubtedly such others, others who—she hated it, but it was true—had done _everything_ with him while she had not. _Gods forgive me, the use of my status as the Augur’s daughter to pull rank over anyone else, since Eva herself is the only female mage in the hold who outranks me and she wanted Cullen._

No, Cait was not sure at all that she was going to set a trap for Anders to remind him that she was there because she wanted to be. _He_ was the one who might or might not want to be.

* * *

_Several days later._

Word had reached Golden Horse Hold of the union of Cullen and Eva, which would last for six years until they either recommitted or parted ways. Cait and the rest of the hold had known it was nigh when she disappeared the night that she had expected him to come and he had left a mark behind—an eagle feather stuck through a parchment with a C-letter on it—to indicate to her family that she was safe with him and not dragged off by something or someone else. It was a full day’s journey to Darkfeather and the message had arrived as quickly as it could. Cait vaguely regretted that when her day came—soon—her family would not be there to witness the swearing of vows either, but that was how it was when someone went to a new hold. They would get to see her at festivals in the future.

Cait noticed as soon as this message arrived that her father put up a couple of new wards. _He expects Anders too,_ she thought. She doubted he would have much difficulty dealing with the wards, and she still could not bring herself to set up any additional ones of her own.

Finally her father noticed her strange mood and unusual silence. “Are you all right?” he asked her privately. “Are you having second thoughts?”

She gave him a worried look. “I... suppose I am,” she admitted. “Not for myself,” she reassured him immediately as his brows flew high in alarm, “but for him.”

Hawke sat down. “What do you mean, for him?”

She gazed outward, not looking him in the eye. “I don’t know if he really wants this. I haven’t seen him since Summerday. And if he doesn’t... then we will both be unhappy.”

Hawke considered her compassionately for a moment before responding. “When I went to Darkfeather with the Thane and they talked about these partnerships, there was a time when Thane Cullen took the Augur aside privately. I don’t know what they said, but he returned and told us that the Augur was committed to it. So apparently he did have the chance to refuse and didn’t do so.”

Cait felt a little relieved at this, although she wished she could know what Anders had actually said to Cullen.

“Cait, what happened between you and him on Summerday is your private business, but... did you part on poor terms?”

She flushed faintly. “I... don’t know,” she said. “We had a wonderful talk... and, well, I have _noticed_ him for years—”

 _“That_ is not news to me,” her father said with a grin.

She snapped her head around to stare at him. “You saw?”

“You, my girl, are _not_ subtle,” he said, chuckling. “The only one of any of you who comes close to it, like your mother, is Bethany. _You,_ though, are like me. Your heart is on your sleeve.”

She blushed hotter. “Well,” she said, flustered, “in any case, on Summerday we got to know each other... but then I ran away.”

“You were afraid of being hurt without a promise or commitment.”

She nodded. “And that’s why I turned to you so quickly at the feast.”

He smiled wryly. _“You’ve_ taken _him,_ then, have you not?”

“That’s exactly it. I have and I do not know if he wanted to be taken.”

“You know,” he said, “your mother ‘took’ me. She was not even of the Avvar, of course. She made no schemes with her father to catch me. She just stormed up the mountain to escape a lowlander noble hunting party and found me. But we kept finding reasons to meet... and I realized eventually that she had captured me already. I don’t know what you and Anders said to each other that day, but he apparently told his thane that he _did_ agree to come here for you... so I would say that you captured him that day too. You ran because you were afraid, but it sounds as though he didn’t hold it against you.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said quietly.

He got up and ruffled her hair. “I think I am.”

* * *

Anders crept into Golden Horse Hold, carefully keeping away from the lit torches that marked the hold and provided some safety for its inhabitants at night—but would expose him to anyone who happened to look out their window. He was also staying wary of traps and wards. This hold, in stark contrast with his, was a powerful bastion of magic, with the families of the Thane, the Augur, and several others boasting of numerous mages among them. It was a large hold, and—with some exceptions, such as Augur Hawke’s wife—had a great deal of intermarriage as a result of its size, but that only served to spread the magical blood throughout its families. Anders went in fully expecting magical caltrops and menacing wards set up to ensnare him.

Cullen had not brought back any information about the kinds of hurdles, magical or otherwise, that he had faced while taking Eva. _“_ _It’s an u_ _nfair advantage to you if I t_ _ell_ _you too much,”_ he had said. The Just Spirit had also refused when Anders had consulted him for anything he might know about the defenses of Golden Horse, so tonight, he was on his own, with nothing available to him but his own magical sense and ability to disarm wards.

He had spent the last day on foot traveling to the hold, and it had given him plenty of time to think. He wished that he had had the chance to talk with Cait Hawkesdotten before... coming to her like this. He was almost certain that she had shoved him away last summer because she feared he would break her heart, and he wished that he had had the chance to tell her....

 _Tell her what?_ he had thought as he had traveled. _Tell her that I wouldn’t have? But would that even have been true?_ He truly did not know. _I never pursued anything more than a tumble, but no one ever asked me for more, either. No one ever hinted that they wanted more... unless she did that day. But if she had told me that outright, no doubt and no mistaking it, what would I have done?_ He wished that he could answer that question confidently. _Would I have tried to let her down gently or would it have motivated me to see that I could have a partner, belong to someone, that I did not... have to be lonely?_ He wanted to believe the latter, but he could not be sure.

As he had finally reached the end of his journey and saw the torches of Golden Horse Hold in the distance, he decided that there was little to be gained by speculating about what he would have done in a past that had not happened. What mattered was to do it _now._ She had entranced him with her conversation and personality, started a fire with him in that hut, and now, according to her own father, she had offered herself to be his partner. There was now a shining chance for him to cast aside his grim resolution of loneliness. She could be his partner... and she was a mage. He was not going to be alone in the hold with the gift of magic, nor would the dangerously lovely wife of the Thane be the only other mage. _That,_ Anders thought, was little better than being alone with the gift; he could hardly form a close bond with _her!_ But Cait Hawkesdotten was a mage too, and she was _his,_ or soon would be.

 _You got away from me,_ he thought, his gaze fixing upon the Augur’s home. Its windows were all dark, but he caught a very faint thread of magic, almost invisible, glowing pale green around the outlines of the windows. He smirked, feeling better now. _You got away from me once, but you regret that, don’t you? You won’t get away from me tonight._

A rational part of his mind disagreed, telling him that this was not going to be that easy. He had seen her fight. She was not training as an augur, but rather, was one of her hold’s huntresses and magical defenders. As such, she occasionally practiced in the Trials, the nonlethal combat event that a hold might open to its own fighters or to its guests. He could defend himself if he had to, but his best skills lay elsewhere, so last summer during Darkfeather’s visit, he was content instead to watch the warriors and battlemages fight to a surrender in the Trials. Cait Hawkesdotten had managed to defeat every person in her hold who had fought except Thane Ar Trevelyan himself, including all of the Thane’s children. Her favorite spells seemed to be fire and force, and she could send her enemies flying. Watching her had gotten Anders’ blood racing, and her showing had apparently given _her_ the courage to speak to him later, when she saw him watching her closely in such admiration.

But that little rational part of his mind whispered to him that the very talent that might have brought them together last summer could pose a serious obstacle now. He crept toward the house, resolving on a plan, his only real chance if she did try to make him work.

The wards on the windows were easy to take down—suspiciously easy, Anders thought as he dissolved them with a wave of his hand. He quickly scanned the interior for traps before heaving himself through the frame, leaving a thin translucent protective skin rippling in his wake.

They were all asleep, he realized. He was glad that he had worn all dark colors tonight and had remembered to put on an amulet that was enchanted to provide a distraction. It could be defeated with enough concentration, but it was something. Keeping close to the ground, he crept through the rooms until he found _hers._

She was sleeping too. He closed the door and warded it so that he would at least get a little time to escape if her father showed up, then eased toward her bed. Gods, she was beautiful. In this moment Anders didn’t care in the slightest what Eva An Trevelyan looked like or what naked vision Cullen had in his warm bed; Cait was just as striking in a different way. She lay sprawled on her stomach, one arm hooked over her head on a fur-covered pillow, the other flung carelessly to her side. Thick red hair halfway to her waist tumbled messily over her body, some of her locks still in small braids that she had left in place after the day’s end. She had apparently twisted out of her fur blankets, leaving lean muscled legs exposed to the chill night air. _Not in my home,_ he thought. _You won’t be cold there._ But as tempting as it was just to stare at her legs, her entire form, her breathing, he did have to focus.

She could have some personal possessions sent to Darkfeather Hold later, but would it not be kinder and more considerate to bring them now? _She’ll know I want her to feel more at home if I do,_ he thought. _I know about loneliness,_ _so I won’t carry her off with nothing but the clothes on her back_ _. She will be uprooted from her family and I want her to know that I care about that,_ _about her_ _._ Her staff rested in the corner, and it appeared to be the only one she used—a fearsome thing topped with the upper half of a drake’s skull, adorned with dragon teeth, pyrophite, and red-dyed leather. _A f_ _ire_ _mage_ _, indeed,_ he thought. He strapped it onto his back. Next to her bed was a bound journal; he would not read it, but he would take that for her too. He picked up a pendant next to the journal with a strange symbol on it, what had to be a lowlander symbol, like two boxy stylized birds joined together. Perhaps it was from her lowlander mother’s family. She would want that too.

He was sure he had done the right thing with this, but he had spent more time, and there was none to lose now. He hated to do it, to take her magic from her even for a brief time, but if she fought him, this venture would end in a very different way from how he wanted it to end. Mustering his mana, he cast a powerful dispel at her, draining her mana to nothing as she jerked awake dizzily.

Bleary green eyes met his at once, and she opened her mouth as if to speak, but he was ready for that too. The next spell he cast stunned her in place, unable to shout and wake anyone else up. This spell would wear off soon enough, so he acted quickly. He pulled her out of the bed, tugging a pair of boots on her feet, and grabbed a fur blanket to help keep her warm as he hustled her to the window.

It was rather easy to help her get through the opening, and a short drop to the ground. She didn’t struggle at all. Everything about this had been strangely, suspiciously easy, but he realized that there was no time to wonder about that yet. Anders hefted himself through after her and covered her with the blanket. The stunning spell was beginning to wear off, though she was still very groggy and probably in no condition to perform magic yet. He had to lift her under her waist and knees and physically carry her through the village until she could walk again. _Please don’t shout,_ he prayed to Spirit.

And she did not, even when the entire spell wore off—which he knew had happened when she pulled the blanket closer to try to stop her shivering.

Anders had left the torches of her hold behind him, though the hold was still in shouting distance if she were inclined to do so. He stopped walking and released her, letting her get to her feet and catch her breath.

“I’m cold” was the first thing she said—and she was. Her teeth were chattering. Those gorgeous legs that he had so admired were now completely exposed to the elements above the boots.

But he had come prepared for that, and, taking off his pack, he took out a set of heavy clothing and passed it to her. She did not try to hide herself as she pulled the leathers on, and, he supposed, why should she, from him? _I’ll see it all soon enough and I’ve_ _already had a rather intimate encounter with her through clothing anyway._ The idea heated his blood. He hoped that she was looking forward to it too... she certainly had liked his company in the summer, and now, she would not need to worry....

“You picked up my staff,” she remarked once she was bundled up in proper clothing and had wrapped the fur around herself for added warmth.

Anders nodded. “I wouldn’t want you to have to wait to do powerful magic.” He moved closer to her, wanting to feel her warmth as they walked together through the forest.

She reached for the staff, but he pulled away. She halted, glowering at him suddenly, and then—to his surprise—began to form a glowing orange ball in the palms of her hands, the embryo of a flame.

 _There_ was the fight that he had been expecting. It was almost a relief, after the bizarre ease of getting her and the uncharacteristic compliance she had shown. Anders reacted at once, not draining her mana this time, but dispelling the spell before it could grow large and dangerous.

“You—”

She was forming another spell as he rapidly cast a glyph around her, one that would last for a while and attach itself to her body rather than this location on the ground. He finished first, stepping away smugly as a ring of glittering ice-blue light surrounded her feet. The second spell that she had been forming vanished at once.

“What did you do?” she exclaimed, opening her palms and seemingly struggling with them.

He smirked. “That is an anti-magic ward.”

Cait gaped at him in shock, but he thought he also saw some admiration in her eyes. “I will act as soon as I sense it fading,” she warned him.

He raised his eyebrows knowingly. “So will I.”

She huffed but still managed a curiously satisfied grin.

* * *

They walked on. When the lights of her hold were finally no longer visible, Anders noticed that the glyph _was_ beginning to fade but that she was not reacting to it. The spark of a fight that she had started to show had faded, and it was back to the strange and vaguely unsettling submission. Was she trying to make him let his guard down? Would she hold back if she decided to give him a challenge, to make him prove his mettle but not actually intending to escape? If she did successfully attack him and run away, that would mean that she did not want this after all.

Maybe, he thought, he just should see what happened. He held his breath as the ring of his glyph faded away to nothing.

* * *

As the blue light vanished, Cait was tempted for a moment to give him a volley—not, perhaps, of fire, but a hard toss of natural physical force.

 _Does he even want to be here?_ she thought. He had been almost silent the whole time, barely speaking to her. His actions were those of duty, not affection. The only signs to the contrary were those smirks she had caught on his face when he cast the glyph. It was disquieting. Perhaps he _had_ only come because he had been ordered. In that case, he might welcome the opportunity to be defeated by his own would-be bride.

The moment passed. The glyph restricting her magic was gone, and yet she did nothing.

* * *

Anders felt growing anxiety as they trekked on and she did nothing. She was also as silent as the night that surrounded them. _More silent,_ he thought, _because the woods have voices even in winter._

He wanted to talk but had no idea what to discuss. The past seemed a minefield; the future was a haze. Finally he remembered the other items that he had taken. He stopped and pulled them out of his pack. “I didn’t read your journal,” he said, handing a surprised Cait the book and pendant, “but I saw it—and the necklace—and thought you might want to have them from this first night.”

She accepted the objects, giving him a wide-eyed look of gratitude and surprise. “It is a grimoire,” she said, “and... yes, a personal journal too.” She put the necklace around her neck. “Mother gave this to me. I’m surprised that you thought to take these things.”

He smiled at her, a real smile. “I didn’t want you to be away from your family and have _nothing_ from home.”

She smiled back, though she was gazing at the ground rather than at him.

“Are you going to attack me if I give you your staff?”

She did look at him then. “Am I attacking you now? I don’t have to have a staff to do magic, as you well know.”

He hesitated, but only for a moment. _If she uses this to attack me, so be it,_ he thought, slinging the object off his back and passing it to her. He held his breath, but she only slung it over her own shoulder, not directing it or a staffless spell at him at all.

His worry that she did not actually want to be here was fading, but another suspicion was replacing it: the suspicion that this had been so easy precisely _because_ she had anticipated it. _I wanted her to let me,_ he thought, _but... maybe I also wanted more of a challenge._

“You do realize that I let you do this, right?”

It was as if she had read his mind. “You couldn’t have,” he protested dumbly. “You were sleeping.”

She smirked. “I wasn’t. I thought you would be coming and I didn’t want my father to catch you and have to set you on fire for failing... _or_ to have to do it myself... so I pretended to be groggy.”

His ego took a heavy bruising. Thane Cullen had carried back _his_ partner, after all, another of Golden Horse Hold’s mage huntresses. It was embarrassing for Anders to accept that... _t_ _hat I did not truly succeed,_ he thought wretchedly.

She noticed his moody frown. “Oh, perk up. I let you because I _wanted_ you, silly,” she said. “I’ve wanted you for years, every time your hold visited mine.”

“Truly?” That was one thing that she had not told him during their long conversation.

“Truly,” she confirmed. “I only mustered the courage to do it after that Trial that I saw you watching. I wanted you that day and I wanted you for this, so I let you take me with ease. Would you really rather have fought me to a surrender and then carried me to your hold _against my will_ to—”

 _“No.”_ Revulsion shot down his body at the very idea, and he would not even have her say the ugly word or complete the thought. “I wouldn’t have.”

“I thought not.” She stopped in her tracks then and faced him, an intense expression of lust coloring her cheeks. “You also know that the other person usually _does_ consent and cooperate, right? It doesn’t reflect against you.”

“My mother didn’t,” he said quietly. “She was to be given to someone she didn’t care for, so she ran away from the hold and became a lowlander.”

Cait gazed at the stars, thinking about that. His mother had gone on to wed a lowlander from the far north, leaving him twelve years later when their only child showed magic and his own father had wanted to give him up to the lowlander templars to be locked away. But she had not returned to her original hold, and she was only welcomed back to the Avvar at all because she had borne a child who could be trained as the next Augur of a hold that was worryingly bereft of mages.

With that background, she realized, of course Anders would have issues with the custom.

“Sometimes it’s forced,” she agreed in a low voice, “and that’s wrong. But _I_ am here because I _want_ to be, and that is much more common. We aren’t helpless flowers like lowlander women, you know. We have a say in our futures. It doesn’t mean that _you_ are weak if _we_ are strong.”

“That’s true,” he agreed. “I’m glad that you are strong and powerful. That’s what I admired at the very beginning when I saw you at the Trials.”

They walked on, lapsing into a much pleasanter silence this time. Anders was feeling strangely happy now. This blunt woman who said exactly what she thought was the person whose company and conversation he had so enjoyed in the summer. He felt warm and happy that she was back.

The stillness was broken again by her voice. “Anders... there is something else I need to talk about with you.”

“Is it—Summerday?” he asked, the private meaning of that word for them filling the entire space of their discussion.

In the next second, he felt warmth and presence—her presence, as she pressed against his side and linked her arm with his. She took his hand in hers through their gloves. “It’s a part of it. I was unkind to you.” Guilt came over her face.

He stopped abruptly and faced her; she did not look at the ground this time, but met his eyes at last. “No,” he said. “You were under no obligation to do anything with me that you didn’t want to do.”

“Oh no, I meant....” She sighed. “I meant suggesting that I thought you would hurt me, when you had done nothing to me that I hadn’t asked you to do, and then, well... as soon as my Thane told us of his plan to send two mages to your hold, and that one of them would be your spouse, I told my father to put me forward. Immediately.”

Anders’ face dimpled. “Is that supposed to be a bad thing?”

Her heart thumped. “I only meant that I didn’t ask around the hold to find out if there might be someone else that you preferred. I wanted you, so I decided to lay claim to you in that moment—and I don’t know if I had the right.” She did break her gaze with his then, staring past him. “A part of me does not want to know if there is someone else you prefer, but... a different part does.”

He was not going to stand by and let her worry about this. “There is no one,” he said feelingly.

“I know that you have been with others,” she said. “More than _I’ve_ let you do.”

“That makes no difference. It never meant anything.”

“I see,” she said, frost suddenly in her tone, to his dismay. “So on Summerday, I _was_ just going to be another tumble for you. What, then, Anders? No one else is more special than I am, but I’m not too special either? You’re quite all right with anyone who is willing to have you, is that it?”

Their moment of companionship was gone. He searched for the right words, the way to make this right, but did not know what to say. The horrible reality was, this was not too far from the truth. He felt more of a connection with her than with anyone else with whom he’d shared intimacy, but what else did they truly have in common? A silent fancy for three years on her part, a conversation—a long one, but still just one until tonight—from one day, an aborted tryst in a hut. He could speak comforting words to her of love at first sight, but she was a realist and knew the facts as well as he did.

“You want honesty,” he began haltingly, fumbling over his words, “and I owe you that much. I have been very lonely, especially since my mother died, but also since my mentor passed and I had to release my spirit. You know about that ritual, don’t you? You haven’t trained as an augur, but—”

“I know about it, yes.” Her face softened. “And you were not born in Darkfeather Hold, nor was your mother their relative. I suppose you _have_ been isolated.”

“And I was the only mage,” he agreed. “So... I suppose that... yes, I might have been all right with anyone who was willing to have me.”

“Because you were that lonely.” Her tone was compassionate now.

He nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. “And my mother had to leave my father because he did not want me when he saw that I was a mage—”

“Narrow-minded lowlanders,” she muttered.

“—and then we ended up among her people, but not her _kin._ A small hold with no one like me but one old man, and no one who was family. No family, and her people—our people—only wed for a fixed period of time. Given that, I might have been willing to take anyone who wanted me, it’s true.”

Cait tried to control her hurt feelings, but she supposed she _was_ glad of his honesty. She considered what to say. “You know,” she finally said, “my parents wed again each time their last one ended. So did Eva’s parents. Many couples do. All things change, but some things last a long time.”

A smile formed on Anders’ face at this. “That’s true. And,” he said, urgency suddenly filling his voice, “I say I might have been contented with anyone, but... there is a difference between contentment and _happiness.”_

“And you think you have a chance at real happiness with me?”

He gazed into her green eyes. “I hope so. I like talking with you,” he said. “I like being around you. I did not really care about those things with anybody else. That has to mean something.”

“What does Spirit think about us?”

He actually chuckled, surprised. Come to think of it, he _did_ wonder what his Just Spirit would think of her. The idea was funny to him. _You’ll get to meet him soon enough,_ he thought, _and then we will all find out together._ “I didn’t ask,” he replied.

She raised her eyebrows. “Some Augur you are. What a risky life, making decisions without consulting with them.” Amusement and flirty sarcasm filled her tone.

“The spirits I know... are not matchmakers,” he said, still grinning. “That, I’m afraid, is left up to us.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should go without saying, but this chapter is highly NSFW. I hope everyone enjoyed this little interlude!

It would be an exhausting walk if they did not get _some_ rest tonight. She had already gone to... well, _bed,_ albeit not sleep, when Anders arrived at her home, and he had been traveling for a day already. He was afraid that if they didn’t rest tonight, then he would immediately collapse on his bed and conk the following night after the ceremony.

“You’re making camp?” Cait asked as he stopped at an unused cave and entered, warding the entrance to at least warn them if a dangerous animal approached.

He turned around once the ward was set. “I spent the day traveling, and you were getting ready to sleep. We will spend all day tomorrow traveling, so we need to sleep tonight. Otherwise... well....” He trailed off.

She raised her eyebrows. “Otherwise...?”

 _Oh, out with it,_ he told himself. “Otherwise I’m afraid that I’ll be too tired tomorrow night to do anything. It would be an insult to you if I just... fell asleep... on your wedding night.”

She chuckled. “Well, that _is_ a consideration.”

“And... I don’t know how things are in Golden Horse... but at my hold, _our_ hold,” he corrected himself, “it isn’t uncommon for eavesdroppers to linger around the home of someone who was just married so they can overhear them.”

Cait raised her eyebrows. “It happens in our hold too. Childish in my opinion, but people do it.” She contemplated for a moment. “We could set up a ward that sent them flying if they got too close. That would be amusing.”

Anders laughed. “We could! But they could probably still overhear from outside the perimeter of the ward.”

She thought about that momentarily before giving him a sly look. “I’m not going to scream, as you well know.”

“We’ll see about that.” He was smirking.

She raised an eyebrow. “You _want_ other people in the hold to hear, don’t you?”

He gazed at the ground, the smile melting from his face.

Cait realized that he apparently, in fact, _did,_ and that it made him uncomfortable to acknowledge. Well, he would need to get over that. She wasn’t going to have him keeping secrets about his emotional state from _her._ “You do,” she said plainly. “You want people to hear us. Why? You don’t have to prove a thing to them, Anders.” Her voice became gentler.

He continued to gaze at the ground, finally sitting down on a rock, but still not responding. Impatient, she drew near him and tapped his shoulder. “Talk to me,” she urged. “You know you ought to. Tell me what’s the problem, who you want to hear us tomorrow night. Who you think you need to impress.” She smirked. “And then I’ll tell you why you shouldn’t worry about it, why the only person you need to satisfy tomorrow night is me.”

“It’s _Thane Cullen,”_ he finally spat. “He isn’t even a mage, but his bride is, and yet—!”

Cait gaped at him, taking in the implications of his words, before bursting out laughing, much to her dismay. “I don’t mean to laugh,” she explained. “I’m not laughing at you, anyway; I’m laughing about what Eva and I discussed....”

“What do you mean?” A hope filled him.

She stilled her giggles. “Did he claim that he ‘defeated’ her and carried her off like a prize, and you feel like less of a man than him?”

She was cutting right to the heart of it, Anders thought, a mix of embarrassment and relief filling him—embarrassment that he was so easy to read, and relief that she _did_ understand him so well. “It’s... something like that,” he admitted. “ And, well, she _is_ loud. I didn’t _eavesdrop,”_ he protested as she narrowed her gaze at him, “but my home is close to his, and she, um... well, until I warded silence.”

“Well, thank the gods for that. I don’t know that ward, but I don’t want to hear them either.”

“And there’s another thing. I’m the only mage in a hold full of warriors.”

“Well, not any longer, with Eva and me joining,” she said with a grin. “But if they think being a mage makes you less manly, I think a few spells carefully directed should make your point.”

Anders laughed, imagining a couple of particularly abrasive warriors from the hold with their bits encased in ice, crying, their hands clutching their frozen crotches. Cait winked at him. “Most of them respect magic,” he said, still chuckling. “It is a lowlander thing not to, usually.”

“But there are always going to be a few idiots who think being a brute is the way to be a man,” she continued. “Since Cullen _can’t_ turn their parts to icicles, I suppose he had to claim he ‘captured’ Eva to save face with those warriors, but that isn’t what happened. I know her. I know her very well. She wanted that lug who is your Thane—”

“He’s about to be _your_ Thane, my dear,” he said pointedly, smirking. He did not even realize what he had called her until the words were spoken.

She gave him a surprised, pleased look, then waved dismissively. “He’s still a lug. My point is that Eva wanted him as much as I wanted you. We discussed it and completely agreed that she should have him and I should have you.”

Anders shook his head in amazement. Relief was breaking over him like a wave. “You speak as if the two of _you_ captured _us.”_

“We have,” she said smugly.

“And yet you and Eva are the ones who are getting new homes in _our_ hold.”

She shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. We captured you.” She smirked at him, green eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “My father told me that about him and Mother. It hardly mattered that he was the one who brought her to the hold. _She_ ‘captured’ him, captured his heart.”

Anders smiled at that thought—and as he did, he realized that he wanted to hold her. He was feeling warm now about the fact that she wanted to be with him this much— _that she wants me, and not just as a quick tumble, but she wants us to belong to each other—_ and this realization made him realize just how very, very lonely he had been for so long. He had actually never just tenderly held anyone for its own sake. And while he was definitely attracted to her, he also... just wanted to hold her.

So he did.

She muffled a cry of pleasure as he enveloped her in his arms, gently pulling her down to the pile of furs he’d unpacked for their bed. He left a magic light burning, a source of heat.

“You wanted _me._ What did you ever see in me?” he murmured as he nestled her tightly against himself.

She smirked. “Golden hair. Handsome face. Magic. And”—she realized that he was becoming exasperated with her evasive answers—“passion.” She stroked his cheek. “When you let yourself show them, you have strong feelings about things that you care about. So do I, and that’s why we bonded so quickly.”

Their body heat was rising from the closeness and the fur blankets that kept it from escaping. He had been thinking that he would just go to sleep tonight, that the long hike to her hold would have tired him too much to consider anything else, but now that he was resting, holding her in his arms, and they had talked some more, he found himself experiencing other feelings and desires.

She was _right there._ He could feel her curves through the furs she was wearing, and he was holding her closely enough that he could almost hear her heartbeat. She was right there, as close as she possibly could be— _almost,_ he corrected himself in thought, _we could be closer if we were joined—_ and it was because she wanted to be there. And they would be this close all night long. It was logical to fight against the chill air. All night long, she would be there, pressed against him.

Her physical presence was suddenly overwhelming. Something in him broke, snapped. Without hesitating, he rolled her onto her back, not letting go.

_“Anders—”_

He silenced her gasp of surprise with a full-mouth kiss. She closed her eyes and instantly fell into it, threading her fingers into his hair on the back of his head, holding him in place and kissing him back as he kissed harder. His hands, already around her from the embrace, found their way under the fur-lined top that she wore. The dry pads of his fingers brushed up her smooth sides, evoking a shiver from her—from cold or from desire, it was not clear. He was wrapped up in the kiss, relishing every moan and shudder that he drew from her, and did not notice that she was shifting in a determined manner until her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him place from below as her hands kept him from moving his head too much. With that realization, he felt his belt tighten a bit, and, gasping himself now, he reluctantly broke the kiss and drew slightly away from her to gaze into her eyes.

She was breathing heavily, and when she spoke, her voice was husky. “Do it if you want to,” she said in almost a whisper. “So long as you can do it tomorrow night as well.”

“One has nothing to do with the other,” he growled. His eyes gleamed as he paused, time seeming to stand still—and then in the next moment, he had her belt untied, the waistline of the suede pants now loose and quite easy to pull down. He gazed admiringly at the curvature of her hips for a moment before he realized that he was completely hard. The friction of the sensitive skin against the leather clothing was almost too much to take—

She was quick-handed too, and she had his length out in a second. He sighed in relief and pulled the fur blankets over them, tucking their edges under her body to keep heat from escaping. It was too cold to strip completely bare. They could do that tomorrow night in his home, which he could keep warm. But this shallow cave was chilly, and there was not much that could be done about it. Fortunately, they could do this mostly clothed too.

He remembered the previous summer, how he had brought her to completion with only his hand. He was eager and didn’t want to wait too long, but he could _certainly_ get her ready. He slid his right hand between her legs, feeling her heat, and then....

Anders raised his eyebrows at her, not saying a word. She stared back at him. “I told you, do it if you—”

Her words transformed into a gasp and a groan as he pushed into her. She _had_ been ready, more than ready, and since he hadn’t needed to prepare her, he wasn’t going to wait. Not tonight. Tomorrow, he would be tender and gentle, maybe even romantic. Tonight, he was going to claim his bride.

She was wet, but she was tight, he observed. _She held a fancy for me for three years, and she’s... twenty? If she decided to wait for me, it’s possible she’s never been with anyone else._ _She’s taking this well if so... but s_ _he is a hunter, so she would have had a lot of physical exercise... and of course, there was last summer._ He felt smug at that memory. _I won’t ask. I’ll just slow down a little._ _For now._

He continued to push his full length into her and began to move once she seemed to have relaxed. Anders always went deep, as deep as he could, because it made him feel—for however short a time—that he was as close to someone, as close to his current partner, as was physically possible. The illusion always broke, of course—but this time, that could be different.

“Are you—doing this—like this—because of last summer?” she gasped out.

He only considered the question for a minute. “Partly—to do what—you didn’t let me do then. Also—to claim you _now.”_

She wrapped her arms around him, kissing deeply. A shudder rocked her body as he went balls deep once more.

“How are you _doing_ this to me?” she moaned, shuddering, as he sped up his pace.

He paused only to respond, a single bead of sweat present on his forehead. “You’ll learn a lot about what I can _do to you.”_ He immediately resumed his punishing strokes.

Cait tried not to be overpowered by the storm of pleasure that he was unleashing on her. _I could’ve had this last summer,_ she thought with a pang of regret. _Or... could I? Once, yes. But could I have had him again, until now? Maybe not. But... I would still have him now. Gods, this is good._

Anders noticed that she seemed to relax and calm down as she was momentarily lost in thought. That was unacceptable. Readying his magic, he slid his hands to her sides and immediately sent strong sparks into her.

She jolted and gaped at him. “You _dare—”_

He smirked and popped another pair of sparks slightly higher up on her body.

 _Yes, this is better,_ he thought. _It’s better because it isn’t an illusion. She wanted me. Demanded me, she says. And I really do like her. This is not an illusion. When I am as close to her as I possibly can be in the physical sense, it’s not creating an illusion._

Finally she came apart, her body flushed, her beautiful red hair a wild, silky riot of braids and locks tumbling all over the furs. He pushed all the way inside her one last time to have his own release, then collapsed atop her, his length growing soft now but still inside her. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight yet gentle embrace, not interested in getting him to move either.

Anders thought momentarily about the jars of dried plants he kept at home. He had always insisted that his female partners take a certain one of them, but he hadn’t even brought a small pack with him tonight. He gazed down at the beautiful woman lying underneath him and smiled. _Of course not. With her, it will almost certainly happen sooner or later anyway... and that’s a good thing._ The smile broadened and also softened as he thought about a houseful of small humans who looked like the both of them, making noise and eventually casting spells.

 _The life of a solitary augur is a lonely one,_ he thought, finally slipping out of her and shifting off her. She grumbled an incoherent complaint, but only for a moment, as he wrapped his arms tight around her from behind, spooning under the furs. _It’s a lonely life for one’s only true friends to be spirits, and for other humans to come to you only when they want to know what the spirits think. It was making me feel that I wasn’t truly a part of the hold. But I won’t be isolated now. She wasn’t born in Darkfeather Hold, but she will become a member, and our family will be members, and that will include me. I’ll have her... I’ll have the family we form someday... and finally, I’ll have the hold. I won’t be alone anymore. I’ll belong to her._

* * *

The next morning dawned chilly but not frigid, and the sun rose triumphantly. No creatures had disturbed the sleeping pair overnight. Anders awakened to a warm body in his arms, sticky dampness in his trousers, and an almost immediate need to have her again. His dreams had been very pleasant indeed.

Cait woke up, eyelids fluttering open, with his movements. She turned around and almost immediately greeted him with a flush, an eyes-averted chuckle, and then, as he tilted her chin upward to force her to look him in the eye, her expression changed to a smirk to match his own.

She understood implicitly what he intended when he turned her on her stomach, but she had to speak her mind. “You know, unless you plan to carry me all day, you _do_ have to leave me able to walk.”

He slipped his fingers into the waistband of her trousers and pulled them down again. “I could carry you. That’s done sometimes.”

“Usually when it _really is_ a capture, though. An unwilling one.”

“True. But fortunately, dear, there is something else about me that you seem to have forgotten. I’m not just an augur. I’m also a healer.” He leaned over and nipped her left ear lightly, making her squirm. “You will have no trouble walking, whatever I do with you.”

He slipped a couple of fingers between her folds, working her for only a few seconds before she was breathing heavily and was as wet as she had been last night. Pleased and feeling rather smug that she was this attracted to him, he drew his hand away and buried his full length in her again.

For her, being taken from behind like this was a different and strangely more intense sensation. She liked the personal intimacy of seeing his face, seeing his expressions change, his eyes squeeze shut and his jaw tense, and being able to grab his hair and kiss him. But there was something about this angle, and perhaps also the fact that she _couldn’t_ see him—couldn’t dissipate the surges through hair-pulling, kissing, or biting—that made this much more intense than last night. It was not long before she was reaching her peak and trying hard not to shout. She’d told him that she wouldn’t do that....

He was too lost in the movements and the pleasure himself to even make note of the fact that her moans and cries were getting louder. He was reaching his peak and almost helplessly plowing her to try to bring himself over the edge, hoping that he wasn’t hurting her. He’d awoken from sexual dreams before and had felt this urgent, undeniable need, which had always meant that he could make himself come within ten minutes. But _gods,_ it was good with her here. He only hoped she was enjoying it as much as he was—

A gasp that turned into a shout from her, which she tried and failed to muffle against the fur, gave him the reassurance he needed.

He tipped over the edge, spent himself, and rested himself on top of her, rubbing gentle circles on her shoulders and sides, both of them breathing heavily. He kissed her neck and the shells of her ears, then remembered yesterday’s discussion.

 _“‘I’m not going to scream,’”_ he drawled. _“‘Nobody will hear us.’”_

“Oh, shut up.”

Anders laughed and eased off her. “If you don’t want anyone _but_ me to hear, we _can_ set a ward tonight. But I’m going to make sure _I_ hear it again.”

“You cocky ass.” In spite of her harsh words, she was smiling and pink.

He merely shrugged as they got themselves cleaned up and ready for the long walk back.

With that need sated for most of the day, Anders realized that they could actually spend the long hike talking and just being affectionate. It was... nice. As much as they were obviously _physically_ compatible, he still wanted to get to know her better, to know more about what she liked and what she would want to have in their home. It _would_ be a home for them both, he resolved. She wouldn’t be adrift and lonely in Darkfeather Hold as he had long been. He wouldn’t have his bond to form at the expense of her feeling isolated instead.

* * *

The sun was low in the sky when they finally ascended up the slope of the mountain where Darkfeather Hold lay. True to its name, each house had a molted feather or two from Arnlaug, the sacred eagle, mounted above its door. It wasn’t a frivolity. A gift of the hold animal was said to provide protection. The Augur’s hut had three.

Cait smiled as Anders pointed it out to her, but he needed to take her before the Thane first to prove that he had fulfilled the task. Then Cullen would call a feast and organize the ceremony, which would take place under the stars.

“Augur,” Cullen said formally as they reached his home. “And Hawkesdotten. I welcome you to the hold and give thanks that Anders brought you here without harm.”

“I am glad to be here, Thane. And no, no harm came to either of us,” she replied, trying not to smirk. Inside, Eva gave her friend a knowing smile. Cait smiled back.

Cullen noticed the exchange between the two women. “It’s good that you will already have a friend here. My wife has told me much about you.”

“Has she?” Cait said. “Well, I’ve told Anders much about _her,_ so we’re even.” She gave him a pointed look that made it plain that she did not only mean Eva, but also Cullen himself.

Anders gaped at her boldness, and Cullen was taken aback for a moment—but only a moment. He laughed ruefully. “Gods support you, Anders. She’s a handful.”

Cait was standing back, smirking.

Anders’ first impulse had been to try to apologize, to say that he was sure she meant no offense—but then he suddenly realized that he didn’t want to do it. He was going to stand by her, not shame her before the Thane in such a way. “She is,” he said with a shrug, “but that’s good. I like women who are strong. You do too, do you not?” He raised an eyebrow knowingly, telling the Thane without words that he knew about him and Eva.

Cullen smiled. “Yes, she _has_ talked about her friend and the scheme they hatched together, I see.” He studied the young Augur. “Keep it a secret. Thane’s order.”

Anders could hardly avoid chuckling at that. Cullen wanted _him_ to keep a secret—had ordered it, in fact. The weight of self-comparison and rivalry with the young thane seemed to lift. _We might even become friends,_ Anders thought in satisfaction as he took Cait’s hand and walked with her to the hold pavilion to wait for the ceremony.

* * *

She had tied the knots deliberately loose. Anders realized it as soon as he began pulling them apart, and it was a little exasperating. Just as she had made it easy for him the previous night, she had done so tonight as well. But there were worse things than unknotting seven years with a spicy, passionate mage who had stolen his heart— _one more year than Cullen,_ he thought smugly as she finished singing and he held up the stick proudly, loops of rope hanging from it.

The other members of the hold cheered, hooted, and slammed their tankards of ale down on the table, making an ungodly mess, but no one cared tonight, least of all the new couple.

They were both quite ready to tumble between the furs again. The exercise of the long walk had been invigorating rather than tiring, and Anders really did want to show her his sweet side when it came to lovemaking. It was appropriate tonight. When all the members of the hold were finished feasting and the newlyweds were getting ready to go to their new home, a group of hunters rushed them, trying to carry them both to the hut in the old-time bedding ceremony.

Anders decided to allow it. He laughed as he was hoisted in the air by a sea of hands and gazed across at Cait, who merely shook her head in tolerant amusement. The groups carried them to the hut beneath flickering torches and twinkling stars.

“There’s that cat again,” someone muttered as they approached the augur’s hut.

Anders’ ears pricked up. “Cat? What cat?”

He was set down on the ground in front of the door, and he could instantly see for himself. A yellow-orange kitten gazed at him, mewed, and rubbed on his legs. He had never seen it before.

“He showed up yesterday, after you left,” a hunter explained. “Sometimes he goes to the butcher’s, but he always comes back here to your doorstep. Arnlaug actually drove off a fox that took an interest in him and left the cat himself alone. I guess he belongs here. There’s more than enough prey for the both of them.”

“Well, who am I to argue? It could be a wedding gift from Spirit.” He picked up the cat and set him on a windowsill, which he had been unable to jump or climb onto from the outside. The kitten slunk in through the window skin, then jumped to the floor inside.

“You always did like cats,” Cullen ventured.

Anders turned around and faced him loftily. “Cats are proud hunters.”

“They are,” the Thane agreed. He stepped aside, allowing the new couple to enter their home.

Anders gazed at Cait for a moment. She gazed back. They seemed to come to an unspoken understanding of what they each wanted. With a single sweeping motion, he picked her up and carried her in his arms, not as a captive, but as a lover. He pushed the door open and then closed, set her down, and allowed himself to fall into her arms as they kissed deeply.

They barely remembered to set the wards, but as they had promised, their cries and gasps of passion that night were for no one but themselves.


End file.
